The Anubis Triangle
by Cemarkah
Summary: The love stories of Sarah Frobisher-Smythe, Victor Rodenmaar Jr. and Rufus Zeno. Sixteen-year-old Sarah has grown up with Victor, who is ever reticent and cold. But when a new boy with clear eyes moves into town, feelings will be aroused in them all. Why must the Osirian and the Chosen One be kept apart? And who can Sarah believe?
1. The Girl Whose Parents Died

**Sarah's P.O.V.**

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The attic was pleasantly musty. I liked to write in here because it was the one place that didn't remind me of my parents. They never came here when they were alive. I bent over my journal, making sweeping characters on the delicate pages.

_My parents died. That is what people think of when they see me. I can tell. Poor little orphan girl, in that big house with only a stale old man and a stuffy young boy for company. If only her parents were still alive. She needs a mother to look after her. _

_If only they would forget! I come up here because this place does not remind me again, and then all I do is write about them. If everyone else forgot that they had died, maybe I too would be allowed to forget and move on with my life. But perhaps it does not matter at all. In two years, when I am eighteen, I will legally own Anubis house. I will sell it and I go somewhere where no one knows that Sarah Frobisher-Smythe's parents died. _

_Two more years. I suppose I can hold on for that long._

"Sarah!"

A youthful, boyish voice interrupted me. Quickly, I shoved the journal into my old dollhouse. A dark head appeared on the stairs. "Victor," I said, standing up and wiping my dusty hands on the front of my dress. "What are you doing up here? Does your father want me?"

He reached the top of the stairs, then surveyed the decaying room with disgust. "You should not be up here. It is bad for your health."

"As if you care," I muttered under my breath.

We used to be friends, a long time ago when we were children, before he became obsessed with his father. I hated the way he watched me. He took pains not to look directly into my eyes, but always treated me with cold objectivity, like I was a science experiment he must be careful not to disturb.

For some reason, he seemed hurt. "It is breakfast time. We do not want to be late for school."

"Of course!" I raced towards the stairs in a panic. He stepped out of my way. I stumbled down the steps, somehow managing to step on every creaky board.

I dashed into my room and checked myself in the mirror. Mr. Rodenmaar hated a slovenly appearance. I straightened my blouse, adjusted my skirt and smoothed out the small rolls of fabric in my stockings. Then, in the manner that one would walk down the aisle, I walked ceremoniously down the stairs and into the kitchen. Victor and his father were already seated and primly buttering their respective pieces of toast. I slid into my chair without making a sound.

"Sarah," Mr. Rodenmaar began.

I sighed inwardly, reaching for a bowl of fruit. He always began the day strangely, with a question that I always dreaded. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Have you been hearing voices again."

Victor's face did not change.

"No voices, sir," I answered respectfully.

Mr. Rodenmaar leaned back, seeming discontent.

When I was little, I used to hear voices in the walls. Innocently, I had once mentioned them to Victor, who had immediately informed his father. Ever since, my delusions had been a sort of fascination to Mr. Rodenmaar. Not a day went by when he did not ask me about them. So I remained constantly frightened that I would hear the voices again.

"Did you finish your report for class?" the grim gentleman inquired.

"Ten pages, practically worthy of publishing," I answered.

"And you, Victor?" Mr. Rodenmaar turned to his son.

"Yes, Father," he replied shortly, then appeared to be consumed in the menial task of placing each fork-full of food into his mouth.

"Excellent."

We finished the meal in silence.

"Shall I drive the two of you to school?"

Victor and I glanced at each other at the same time.

_He has a handsome face, _I realized with shock, then looked away. I had never thought of Victor as handsome before. In his childhood, he had been a little too plump and always sweaty. Now he was tall and strong, with dark pecan eyes and smooth, shiny hair. "Bea and I are going to walk together," I answered Mr. Rodenmaar, shaking my head to rid myself of these disturbing thoughts.

Victor cleared his throat. "I will walk as well."

"Then you both should hurry," Mr. Rodenmaar said, glancing at the clock on the wall. Right then, the doorbell rung.

"I will get it!" I shouted, leaping from the table and nearly upsetting my cup.

"Slowly, child!" Mr. Rodenmaar shouted at me as I ran into the hallway.

I could see Bea through the glass. I grabbed my book bag from its hook and stepped into the early morning. Bea linked her arms with mine immediately as we started down the path. "I have news!" she squealed.

She had been my best friend ever since she moved into the house about a quarter mile down the road, the closest building besides the school.

"Is it good?" I asked. "Because if it is bad I do not think I want to hear it."

"It is fantastic," she gushed. "There is a new family in town, and they have a son who is just our age. I heard from Annabelle who has a cousin who knew their gardener when they lived in London. And Grace walked by their house the other day, you know, the house that the Yardens used to live in? She saw the son. She says he is the finest specimen of manhood she ever saw."

"That seems a bit extreme," I said doubtfully. "Do you know his name?"

She gave a little skip. "Not yet, but Annabelle told me his last name."

A footstep made me turn around. Victor was following behind us at a respectful distance. When he saw me watching him he averted his gaze to the trees on either side of the gravel walkway. I faced the front warily. "What's the name?" I asked.

"Zeno," Bea said.

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	2. The Boy With Clear Eyes

In every class, they were talking about the new boy. The girls spoke in flurried whispers, sharing bits and pieces of valuable information. The boys grunted and folded their arms. "He's a stiff," one would say. "Yeah, a stiff," another would reply.

"Where is he, anyway?" I asked Bea as we walked to our Ancient Literature class.

"In the headmaster's office," she replied. "He's been in there all morning. It's probably best for him. As soon as he steps out of that door he's going to be attacked."

"At least he will not have to worry about us," I said.

"Of course..." Bea said airily, but I could tell that she was already as lovestruck as the rest of them.

At lunch time, we all gathered outside to eat. The boys kicked balls around while the girls sat in circles, talking and braiding each other's hair. Bea and I traded sandwiches and ate, sitting on a low brick wall, watching the small social ecosystem progress. Victor ate alone, his back against a twisted oak tree. I pitied him, but only a very little, because it was mostly his own fault that he was so strange. He wasn't always strange; it was his choice.

Suddenly, it grew very quiet. I looked up, confused, to see that every head in the yard was turned towards the door of the school. I followed their gaze to see a lone figure standing on the steps. "It's him," Bea whispered with awe.

He stepped out of the shadow of the roof and into the sunlight. He knew that everyone was watching him and yet moved with purpose and confidence. Slowly, he walked past the small groups of girls, the scattered boys who were frozen in their sport, Victor and his tree. His gaze lit on each one momentarily, then moved past them as if they were not worthy of him. I was so intrigued by his manner that it was a shock to realize that he had stopped before Bea and I.

Bea sighed a little with delight.

Grace had not been exaggerating.

He was...perfect. Almost godlike. He had a strong, squarish jaw, defined nose, molded forehead and reddened cheeks. His hair was golden straw, shining and flat against his head. But most remarkable were his eyes. They were a delicate blue and marvelously clear, but with a secret depth that you would not find upon first looking into them. He held out his hand to me.

"I do not believe we have met," he said, smiling a little.

I stood up as gracefully as I could and shook his hand. "My name is Sarah." For some reason, I felt as if I should curtsy.

"I'm Rufus."

Rufus. It didn't seem right that you could put a name to one such as him. It was like trying to describe the sun to one who has only seen darkness. "I'm Beatrice," my friend piped up, like a little bird. He nodded graciously in her direction, then returned his attention to me.

For the first time, I wondered if I was pretty. I had never dwelt much on my appearance. I had thin, dull blond-brown hair, blue eyes that never sparkled, a figure that did not curve in all the right places. My clothes were shabby and outdated and hung on me all wrong. I wished I had picked up my book bag so that I could hang it over my front and conceal them.

"How are you finding the academy?" I asked politely.

"It's a rather stuffy, boring place. But then again, I suppose that school isn't supposed to be enjoyable. Then we wouldn't suffer and the teachers wouldn't have any fun wreaking misery upon us."

"I see it you take the cynic's ground," I said pensively.

"Not in the strictest sense of the term, but I find that it is the only steady kind of ground."

_Ah, _I thought. _A philosopher._

He switched subjects so fast that it made my head hurt. "I have heard you live in Anubis House."

"Yes," I answered. "Ever since I was born."

"We just met..." he began.

"True," I commented.

"And I know I do not know you at all..."

"Practically a stranger," I interceded.

"Besides, this would be a gross imposition..."

"Of the grossest kind," I interrupted.

"Will you be quiet?" he said, raising his voice in mock anger. I raised an eyebrow at him and put a hand on my hip, leaning all my weight onto one leg.

"As you wish, my lord." This time I really did curtsy, a grand, sweeping, elegant gesture. He glanced around at the people watching us, seeming embarrassed. I smirked, a little self-satisfied at having broken his composure. "What is it you require of me?" I asked.

He sat on the wall, patting the space beside him and indicating for me to sit as well. Ever tactful, Bea had disappeared. I saw her now, hiding behind Victor's tree and spying on us. Victor was spying on us as well, but he did not attempt to hide that fact.

"The man who sold us the house we live in now mentioned the Anubis estate. As soon as I heard the name, I was immediately fascinated. Ever since, I have not been able to rid myself of a desire to visit it. I heard you went to school here and that you lived there, and I was hoping that you would...you know." His clear eyes were soft and begging. "Please, Sarah."

Mr. Rodenmaar did not appreciate it when I brought friends. But when had I ever cared what Mr. Rodenmaar thought? It _was _my house, after all.

I nodded. "Of course. Today, after school."

"Incredible," Rufus breathed.

We were nearing the house. The imposing structure shadowed us, swallowing our own tiny shadows with its vast darkness. "Now remember," I said as we walked the steps to the door. "You must not anger Mr. Rodenmaar in any way."

"Understood," he said.

I reached for the doorknob, but he caught my arm before I touched it. His skin was warm almost to the point of a feverish heat. I looked up into his face, realizing how tall he was. "Thank you," he said fervently. "You have no idea what this means to me."

He let go, but I was left on fire. Moving past me quickly, he intended to open the door for me instead, like a true gentlemen. But the minute he touched the brass knob, he froze. His eyes stared ahead, open and yet unseeing.

"Rufus?" I prompted, craning my head to better see his face. It had gone white. Tiny beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. "What's wrong? Tell me!" I pleaded.

Suddenly, he flinched and blinked, then his eyes darted around frantically. I put my hands on his shoulders and made him look at me. His eyes widened momentarily, then he wrenched out of my grass and ran away.

I watched him run. Every few steps he stared back at the house with exquisite horror, as if he expected it to chase him.

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	3. The Vision That Burned

I followed Rufus' fleeing form until my eyes ached and I was sure I could see him no longer. Then, by some instinct, I looked up just in time to see a face disappear from the window. Victor? His father? I did not know for sure, but Victor met me by the door. "Who was that?" he asked, his eyebrows forming a sharp V.

"Rufus Zeno," I answered. "The new boy at school."

Did I imagine the shadow of jealousy that crossed Victor's face? "You should not have brought him here," he said, jaw tight. "Father..."

"You are going to snitch, aren't you?" I challenged. "Fine then, see if I care. The two of you cannot hurt me."

"Hurting you was never my intention." His voice was strained with emotion.

"Never your intention?" I stared up at him frankly. "Or never your father's?"

"Victor!" I heard Mr. Rodenmaar's call from the cellar. "I need you."

Victor bent stiffly. "I am not going to tell him," he whispered in my ear. The warm air against my skin sent shivers down my back. "You can trust me more than you think." He backed away, breaking eye contact only when it was necessary.

As I walked out of Biological Studies, Rufus grabbed my arm and pulled me into a nearby broom closet, then closed the door. Outside, I could hear Bea exclaiming over my sudden disappearance.

"I need to talk to you," Rufus said. I could not see his face.

I reached out with my arm, trying to find the light. Though I made no sound, somehow he knew what I was doing. "Don't," he said. "Someone will see it and open the door and think we're...you know."

I dropped my hand. "What do you want to talk about?" I asked, but only as a convention of manners. I knew what he wanted to talk about, and he knew that I already knew.

"I had a vision when I touched the doorknob," he said hurriedly. I could hear how frightened he was, a bare shadow of the cocky bow who had looked down at people with his clear eyes. "I was holding a mask that was made of gold. It had a purple gem where the forehead would be. There was a girl holding the other end. She was crying, telling me not to take it from her. I ignored her, and she let go. Then I said something that I can't remember now and put the mask to my face. Then I was screaming and fading into nothing and fire and the vision ended, but my face felt like it was burning and I had to get away from the house..." his voice broke, and I heard the tears in his voice. "It was awful...so real...like it had happened or was going to happen...I can't die, Sarah! I'm afraid of dying!"

"It's over," I said comfortingly. "It was just a hallucination."

"Really?" He sounded so small. Like a child.

I wanted to touch him, but I refused to move. "Yes," I said with certainty.

He took a deep, ragged breath. "Thank you."

"Will you be alright?" I asked, wondering if I was dealing with insanity. "Do you need to go home."

I heard him stop breathing as he assessed his condition. "No..." he said slowly. "I think...I think I will be alright."

For a few moments we stood there, the darkness like a wall between us.

"We should go to class," I said finally. "I have a test in Maths today."

"Can I walk you there?" he asked. "I do not want to be alone yet."

"You would not be alone," I said dryly, trying to find the doorknob in the dark. "I am sure there are a couple hundred girls at this school who would love to keep you company."

"You can be in a roomful of people and still be alone," he said. "Right now, the only one at this school who would make me feel like I wasn't. Alone, that is."

I wasn't sure if I was blushing or not, but I left the door closed for a few more seconds so he could not see my face.

"So I will walk with you."

"Alright." My throat was hoarse.

I opened the door to a hallway filled with bustling people. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice us quickly exit the broom closet. Rufus and I both looked at each other, surprised by their oblivion. I drew a quick breath. I had forgotten how handsome he was. I opened my mouth and closed it again. It had been easier to talk to him in the darkness. "May I carry your books?" he asked politely.

If I hadn't been blushing in the closet, I was surely blushing now. "Thank you," I said, surrendering them to his willing arms.

"Lead the way," he ordered, smiling. "I still do not know my way around this place."

Together, we walked, me stealing glances at him every few steps and pretending that I did not notice everyone stealing glances at us. The room was on the other side of the school, so we had a way to go.

"So then, why did your family move here?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. Even in simple, physical acts like that, he outshone every other boy in the history of the world who had ever shrugged his shoulders. "Money," he said. "My dad got a better job offer from the law firm here, so we moved."

"Were you sad to leave London?" I asked.

He looked at me, narrowing his eyes. "How did you know I came here from London?"

"It's practically common knowledge now," I sighed dramatically. "In fact, they might as well have a sign outside the school with all the details of your life."

"I thought I would miss it more," he said, grinning. "But I do not. Actually, I feel a bit guilty about it. I had good friends there, ones that I should miss dreadfully, but I just...don't. Is that a bad thing?"

"I do not think so," I answered. "Missing them would weary no one but yourself, and it is a feeling it will never pain them to know you did not..."

Suddenly, with almost unearthly speed, Rufus tackled me and pinned me to the ground, his body almost completely covering mine.

Then the ceiling fell down.

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**I hope those of you who are reading this are enjoying it! I've had very few views, but if you want the story to continue, please tell me. I do have a lot of ideas, but I might not continue the story if I don't think people want to read what I'm writing. Please, if you are genuinely invested in the story and want to see it continue, leave a review or PM me**

**Cemarkah**


	4. The House That Spoke

I screamed as plaster and rotten wooden beams rained down around us. Rufus hunched farther over me, shielding my skin from every splinter. It was getting hard to breathe, but I was not about to complain with him taking the brunt of the roof on his back. All around us, I could hear people yelling. The last of the roof fell and it began to quiet down.

"We're fine," I told Rufus, my voice muffled by his body.

Carefully, with white dust falling off his clothes at every move, he unwrapped his arms from me and stood up, the debris crashing to the floor from his back. He held out a hand and helped me up. My knees were shaking. As he helped support my weight, I saw Rufus wince, then glance down at his left leg. I looked down too. There was a rip in his pants, and I could see blood beginning to soak through.

"Sarah," he mumbled, beginning to sway. Then his legs buckled. I steadied him, both of my hands on his shoulders.

"We're not fine!" I gasped, almost hysterically. "You're hurt!"

Then other people were there, teachers, making him lie down and checking me head to foot for injuries. There was not a scratch on me, while Rufus had small bruises and cuts everywhere from the debris.

"Sarah," he kept saying over and over again.

"Is he alright?" I asked everyone around me. I was caught in a flood of hands and a sea of bodies, all pulling me towards the nurse's station.

"They're taking him to the hospital," the music teacher finally answered.

"I should go with him," I said. "I'm the reason he got hurt."

"Really?" Bea questioned, suddenly appearing behind me with a smirk-grin on her pretty, heart-shaped face. "Because I would have said it was the ceiling. Relax, Sarah. He is not going to die."

I glared at her, but I could not help smiling back. "He is really scared of dying," I giggled, wondering if my extreme reactions meant I was suffering a mental breakdown of some kind.

The nurse made me move every muscle in my body, asking me if it hurt. "No," I answered again and again, like a machine. _How did he know? _I wondered as the inspection dragged on. _How did he know the roof was going to fall?_

"How did he know the roof was going to fall?" Victor demanded.

I squeezed my eyelids closed. "I have told you, Victor. I do not know."

"Father wants to know," he said, in almost a helpless way. "He wants to meet him."

I sat up on the divan so fast it made my head ache. "No!" I squeaked.

It would ruin everything. Rufus would never want anything to do with me again. No one ever did, except for Bea, because she was oblivious. "I'm to ask him over once he returns from the hospital," Victor said guiltily; he knew I would protest.

I did, but not aloud. I set my lips and stared ahead viciously.

"Do not be angry with me, Sarah," he said pleadingly. "I promise I will not let Father scare him. It is a small thing, really. He is just curious."

"Bad things happen when your father is _curious, _Victor," I said, remembering the long nights I had been forced to sit on a precariously high stool in the basement while Mr. Rodenmaar questioned me about a cup and about the voices I had heard.

Victor did not answer this - he knew it was his fault. He was the one who had betrayed me. He owed me everything now, and he would never make up for it, not while he kept accumulating debts. "I am sorry," he said. "I have to do what he says. He is all I have."

"You had me, once," I said stiffly.

He left, as hurt as I had intended him to be.

_Why should I care what he thinks of me? _

I sighed, letting my weight sink down in the couch until there was no air left in me. I closed my eyes, and suddenly I could hear it all. I could hear the roof creaking as the house began to cool for the night. I could hear the window in the attic banging because it never closed properly. I could almost feel the rats running through the walls, I could smell the tasteless dinner cooking in the kitchen. I was intensely aware of it.

The house.

_Stay away, _it was saying to me.

_Stay away from him._

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**Thanks for all the positive reviews! I especially loved the one from justkeeptyping - a lot of words makes me happy :) I'm definitely continuing the story.**

**Just out of curiosity, which of the guys are you liking so far? Are you for Rufus or Victor?**


	5. The Day When They Left

That night, I couldn't sleep. I stared up at the rafters in my bedroom, dreading every new moment for fear that the house would speak to me in it. When I stumbled down to breakfast, barely able to stand and circles under my eyes. Victor noticed, I could tell, but he did not say anything.

Rufus wasn't at school that day. The teacher told us he was at the local hospital. I desperately wanted to visit him, but I was afraid of the conversation that would follow. Things like roofs falling did not simply "happen" to me and those around me.

"So romantic," Bea sighed over her cheese sandwich. "The way you were holding each other..."

"Yes," I rolled my eyes. "Because that is exactly what we were thinking about."

"Do you think he likes you?"

"No," I answered.

No boy had ever cared for me. I was the plain, freaky girl who lived in the ghost house whose parents had died. I was a character out of a Jane Eyre novel. Fascinating and tragic, but virtually unapproachable to the reader.

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"He's back!" Annabelle called to us as we walked up the steps of the school.

Bea gasped. "Hurry!" She dragged me inside and into the school bathroom. Then, while I stood still like a dazed puppet, she undid my hair and fluffed it, pinned my skirt so that it hung a scandalous four inches above my knees, and worried my cheeks until they were red.

"Ouch!" I cried finally, slapping her hands away.

"You're ready. Go."

I was prodded through the door to the girl's bathroom.

Rufus was waiting outside of it.

Acting like it was perfectly normal for a boy to be waiting for a girl outside the bathroom, I said, "Hello! Are you feeling well?"

"Much better," he said. "I think they only kept me overnight because they were bored. There's not very much to do in this town." He held up a bandaged wrist. "I sprained this, but all it means is that I won't be able to write for a while, which, frankly, I'm not too upset about."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Victor approaching us, determination in his face.

"Can we walk?" I propelled him down the hall. Victor followed us at a respectful distance. I glared back at him, willing him to go away. He returned this with a blank look.

"We need to talk, Sarah," Rufus said seriously. "I have to...explain what happened..."

I nodded briskly. "I agree, but first, I must withdraw your invitation."

"My invitation?"

"To Anubis House. Victor is about to invite you over, and I want you to say no."

He whispered. "But I must figure out what happened to me! The vision, remember?"

I gazed up at him, hoping for once that my blue eyes sparkled. "Rufus, please..."

The bell rang, with unnecessary volume.

Victor stood directly behind us. "Rufus," he said. "May I speak with you?"

Rufus looked from me to Victor, then did it again. "Of course," he said politely. "Go to class, Sarah. Everything is fine."

Why did I find it attractive even when he ordered me around? I continued walking down the hall, looking over my shoulder every few steps. Brown and blond heads. I had the feeling that something terrible had been unleashed.

* * *

There was something lying on my pillow when I returned.

_"Why are you leaving?" I cried, hugging Mother's knees. "I don't understand. Please don't leave me with Mr. Rodenmaar. He's scary."_

_Gently, she unwound my arms, lifting up my tearstained face to meet her eyes. "I will return Sarah. Father and I will come home as soon as we can, but our research in Egypt is very important. Surely you know this. We have left you in England before."_

_"But not with HIM," I whimpered. _

_She sighed. "I am afraid it is necessary. He is a good man, though hard, and he will make sure you are safe. Do you understand that?"_

_Reluctantly, I nodded. _

_"Good. Now, if you promise to be a sweet little girl until I return, I have a present for you."_

_"I promise!" I shouted, jumping up quickly._

_She smiled, taking a little, black velvet box out of her coat pocket and handing it to me. Eagerly, I clawed at the box until it opened, revealing an odd-looking pendant on a silver chain. "What is it?" I asked._

_"It's the Eye of Horus," she said, gently prying it from my hands and clasping it around my neck. "It can open many things for you, if only you look for those things. Your father made it, but he does not know you have it. This must be our secret."_

_"Why can't he know I have it?"_

_She gazed far off in the distance. "He thinks it is foolish, but I worry. I do not want it to fall into the wrong hands. It must be kept safe for the person it is meant for. We think that person is you, but even if it is not, no one shall suspect a child of having anything so precious."_

"I stole it back from him," a voice behind me said. "To say I'm sorry, for what happened with Rufus."

I turned around slowly, the necklace draping from my hands. "Do you honestly think that by returning something you _stole _from me, you can return to my good graces?"

He didn't say anything, just stood there with a painfully hopeful look in his eyes.

"Don't you understand, Victor?" I turned towards the window. "You can _never _make up for all the ways you betrayed me. You betrayed our friendship, you betrayed my happiness, my trust, you betrayed the last thing that my mother gave to me before she died. You continue to betray me, every single day that you spend slaving for your father instead of helping me get out of this godforsaken place. And now, I finally meet someone normal, who hasn't known all his life about Sarah, the freak, and you are determined to make him hate me! Why, Victor? Why?"

"There are some things that are more important than you," he said stiffly. "If I could obtain them without compromising your happiness, I would. But you do not understand us or what we do. If you did..." he stopped. "I am trying to save your life. You just...can't know how yet."

"Get out," I said, jaw clenched.

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	6. The Lie That Did Not Convince

Rufus sighed with relief. "Nothing," he said.

I stared at his hand, which rested on the doorknob of Anubis House. He flexed it, preparing to turn the knob. "Wait!" I shouted.

He looked at me, and I nearly melted. How could ice-blue eyes make you melt? It was against the laws of nature. "What is it?" His body stiffened, as if he were sensing for danger. "Is something wrong?"

A little startled by a reaction so strong, I shook my head. "It is just...I think we must talk before we go in...about the ceiling."

"We had the whole walk here to discuss the ceiling," Rufus pointed out, seeming evasive. "It must not matter much to you if you did not bring it up before now."

"I want to speak of it now."

"I do not."

"Why? Before, in the hallway, you agreed...you were the one who said that we should talk in the first place!"

"So..." He was getting angry. He pulled us away from the house, where Victor and Mr. Rodenmaar would not be able to hear. "So you are allowed to suddenly decide you want to talk, but I am not allowed to suddenly decide that I do not want to?"

_Maybe I should cry, _I wondered. Crying always worked for Bea. She frequently wept in front of boys, and they always tripped over their feet to do whatever she asked. I squinted hard at Rufus' face, trying to induce moisture.

"What are you doing?" he asked, mouth agape.

I blinked quickly, swiping at my eyes. "Nothing," I said sullenly. "Just tell me, Rufus."

"No." He stepped up to the door, opened it and went inside. I followed.

Mr. Rodenmaar and Victor were standing in the hallway, a little too close to the door. I noted Victor's reddened face. They had been listening. "Welcome, Mr. Zeno," Mr. Rodenmaar, said grandly, with as much warmth as it was possible for him to muster. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, sir," Rufus answered shortly.

"Come in, come in!" Mr. Rodenmaar ushered the young man into the common room, while Rufus and I followed behind. "I cannot tell you how _eternally _grateful we are to you for protecting Sarah. She is an absolute treasure to us."

Rufus was staring at Mr. Rodenmaar warily, like he was afraid the elderly man was going to attack him. "I am glad I was there, sir."

We sat down on the couches. I scowled at my plain, brown shoes, looking up at everyone from beneath my eyelids - Mr. Rodenmaar watching Rufus, Rufus watching Mr. Rodenmaar, Victor watching them both. "Rebecca!" Mr. Rodenmaar called. "Please bring in the tea things now."

Our stout maid wheeled in a cart with cups and kettles and trays of sandwiches and sweets. Asking each of us what we would like, she began to prepare the tea. We were all silent as she did so. Her steady hands flew over the cart until we were each holding a delicate china teacup. As the three of us sipped away, Mr. Rodenmaar resumed his questioning. "Tell me, boy, how did you manage to shield Sarah so quickly?"

Rufus, mouth full of tea, did not answer.

"You heard the roof creaking, perhaps?"

Rufus swallowed and coughed. "No, sir. It was simply...an instinct."

"Surely not." Mr. Rodenmaar stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Victor said you were upon her..."

Seeing how uncomfortable Rufus was, I decided to interfere. "Please," I said gently, in my best teatime voice. "May we not speak of it? We are both all right, and the recollection of the experience is...traumatic. Let us drop the subject."

Rufus glanced at me gratefully, and my heart warmed.

"Alright, then," Mr. Rodenmaar said gruffly. "Tell me about your family, Rufus."

A tense hour later, we were saying goodbye to Rufus at the door. I walked back to my room with a secret smile on my face.

* * *

That night, I heard voices in Mr. Rodenmaar's office. I crept down the hallway in my nightgown and slippers and crouched by the door so they would not be able to see me through the glass.

"...lying, I am sure."

"Perhaps not, Father. Perhaps it is an instinct they themselves do not understand."

"No one who is in possession of power is unconscious of it. I know that better than anyone. Young Zeno was lying to us through his teeth, and he is quite good at it. Sarah must know as well. She was quite good at avoiding the subject."

"Sarah does not know."

"And you know this how, Victor? Are you two the best of friends again? This is news to me, and I would guess to Sarah as well."

Silence.

"She hates me, Father." Victor's voice is strained with emotion.

"Yes, yes." Mr. Rodenmaar sounded distracted. I heard papers shuffling. "There is only way to discover if Rufus is lying..."

Downstairs, there was a crash in the kitchen, and Rebecca called for help. Knowing I would soon be discovered, I retreated to my room and threw myself upon the bed. My sleep was restless that night, haunted by nightmares filled with ice blue eyes and waterfalls of chamomile tea.

* * *

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	7. The Minion Who Turned

"Do you think he's cute?" Bea whispered in my ear.

"Yes," I answered promptly, not looking up from my notes. Naturally, I assumed that she was speaking of Rufus.

Bea waited until the teacher's back was turned to lean forward and whisper again. "Sometimes I am not sure - he often looks so stern! But still, those brown eyes, so deep and intense..."

_Brown? _I glanced up, following Bea's gaze to the dark figure that was seated across the room. _Victor. _"Oh," I said softly. "I don't know." I didn't really want to think about it now. Why was this suddenly coming up? I frowned at Bea. Sometimes she made things so difficult...

"Did you ever like him?" she asks, staring at him like she can suck in his image with her eyes.

I did not want to answer.

Fortunately, the teacher turned around. "Now," she said, peering down at us over her wire-rimmed glasses. "Who can tell me the name for a symbol that appears over and over again in a literary work?"

Not waiting for volunteers, because she knew there would be none, Mrs. Thomas called on Grace. "A motif," she answered hesitantly.

"Excellent," Mrs. Thomas smiled. She turned around and began writing the word _motif _on the board.

I knew it was a bad idea to encourage this topic of conversation, but I could not help it. "Why?" I whispered backwards. "Do you like him?"

She did not want to answer.

"You do," I stated.

Then Mrs. Thomas turned around again and began speaking. I resolved to pursue an answer during lunch hour, but Bea did not want to wait for that. After a few minutes, she slipped a small, folded piece of paper into the iron latticework of the wooden desk. Keeping my eyes on Mrs. Thomas, I moved my hand with stealth until I had rescued it. Then, slipping it onto my lap, I bent over my notes and began to write nonsense words, while secretly reading Bea's message.

_I have actually liked him for a long time now. I was afraid to tell you, not because I thought you DID have feelings for him, but because I thought that you someday might, like Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth or Catherine and Heathcliff; a sort of dark, gothic romance. And because I was almost certain that he liked you. But now that Rufus has come...and you like him...and Victor isn't bothered...Well, yes. I like him._

And for some reason, I couldn't decide how I felt about it. Or what I should do.

* * *

English ended at 11:30.

Lunch began at 11:40.

Lunch ended at 12:15.

Music Theory began at 12:25.

But at 12:23, I thought I was going to die of shame.

It really began at 12:22, when I was walking to Music Theory, I suddenly found myself in the broom closet. "What is _he _doing here?" Rufus hissed.

"In London, do people normally frequent closets?" I whispered, a little breathless from being dragged around.

"Look," Rufus ordered, pushing the door open. As it creaked and slid against the floors, I stuck my head out, then quickly pulled it back in.

12:23.

Mr. Rodenmaar was standing by the headmaster's office, in his suede overcoat and dusty suit. The kids passing him were giving him strange looks.

"I do not know," I said.

Rufus was breathing heavily, like he was afraid. "I do not like him," he said shortly.

"No one does," I answered honestly. "Not even his minion."

"Where is the minion?" Rufus asked.

I shrugged, trying not to remember Bea's note. "I have not seen him since lunchtime."

"Where is Victor?" Rufus was not listening. He stumbled towards the door, knocking over brooms and mops and buckets and raising a great clamor in the dark. "I have to find him."

I opened my mouth to speak, but light flooded the closet and Rufus was gone.

I did not see him again until after Music Theory, during Chemistry. I stopped him before we entered the room. "Did you find Victor?" I asked in a low voice.

Rufus shook his head with jerking, crazed motions. "Is he in this class?" he mumbled. "I can't remember."

"No," I said soothingly, putting a hand on his arm and leading him to his seat beside Annabelle, who noticed the dazed way he was walking and asked me quietly if he was sick. I replied that I did not know.

Today was an experiment day. Wesley and I measured out the appropriate amounts of chemicals while listening to the teacher's instructions. It was therapeutic, in a way - to do something that required a tremendous amount of concentration. I could not think about other, more troubling things.

We were about to add the last chemical to the beaker when Rufus suddenly stood and shouted. Every head in the room snapped towards him; every body frozen.

Then, Victor crashed through the door, brown fire raging in his eyes. He ran straight towards Wesley and I. And then, before anyone could clearly see what had happened, our table had been tipped over, leftover chemicals were coursing to the floor, and our beaker was in Victor's hand.

He was crying and looking at me. "I'm sorry!" he gasped tearfully, then spun around and ran out.

The door slammed behind him.

* * *

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* * *

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	8. The Plea That Was Answered

I stared down at the floor in shock, as tinted chemical solutions dripped across my plain brown shoes. Then I looked up, my gaze connecting with Rufus' eyes. They were wide and confused, but his mouth was set in an angry line. He was running towards me, his feet slipping and sliding across the drenched floor. "Come one," he said, grabbing my hand and jerking me towards the door. "We have to go after him!"

* * *

It did not take us long to catch up with Victor. He was crying still, and this slowed his feet. Even so, he had gotten such a head start that we were at the gatehouse of Anubis Estate before we caught him.

Letting go of my hand, Rufus grabbed Victor by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall, elbow at Victor's neck. "What did you do?" Rufus screamed in his face. Shocked, I stumbled backward.

"I saved her!" Victor protested, his face paling.

"After you tried to hurt her!" Rufus yelled.

"Let her decide," Victor panted, eyes weary. "Let Sarah decide if I am guilty."

Rufus looked at me. I nodded. He released Victor, then stepped back, slipping his fingers through mine. "Explain," Rufus said coldly, squeezing my hand.

Victor's head hung. "Father thinks you have special powers."

"I don't," I said, heart quivering.

"I was not speaking of you," Victor mumbled. "I meant Zeno."

"I don't," Rufus said, hand trembling.

Was he lying? I looked up at him. His face was like a marble statue - a singular, unreadable expression. Victor ignored him and continued speaking. "Father believed that putting Sarah in danger would awaken these powers further. He created a solution in the cellar that he guaranteed would not hurt her and commissioned me to place it in one of the beakers. He thought that you would sense this and protect her before it was too late."

I remembered the way Rufus had stood and yelled right before Victor had interrupted.

"So why did you change your mind?" I asked, almost gently.

"I felt guilty," he admitted, slowly raising his eyelids to me. "I did not know what it would do. I thought that Father must have lied to me, because I reasoned that the danger would have to be strong enough for Rufus to sense it, and if he did not, I feared for you. Please."

Victor dropped to his knees. Dust swirled up from the road. "Please forgive me," he begged. "I truly meant you no harm."

Rufus' face was red, and his limbs were shaking. He could barely contain his anger. "It will be alright," I whispered to him.

"Please, Sarah," Victor pleaded again.

"If I said I forgave you." I averted the eyes of both boys. "I would be lying."

Victor's head fell, but when he looked up, his face was resigned. He understood - it could not all be undone with a few words. "I am going to prove to you that you should forgive me," he said. "If it takes until the day I die, I am going to show you how sorry I am."

"Really?" Rufus quivered. "How are you going to start?"

"Sarah cannot reside in Anubis House any longer," he said. "It is not safe. Either my father must go, or Sarah must. There is no choice now."

* * *

Taking deep, heaving breaths, I re-read the poem I had written three years ago.

Page with honest face

Mirror for the soul

To write down what cannot be said;

Mere feelings will not hold

Canvas with still grace

Reflection for the eyes

Displays what cannot be explained;

That beauty in surmise

Air with untold space

The audience for the philosophy

Speaks out what cannot be kept

To caverns of in-actuality

Mind a calm embrace

The mortal life a clay

To stretch and break on every whim;

Creation unto its day

I realized that I had been thinking of Victor when I had wrote it. His father had taken his young, unspoiled soul, and with selfishness, created it into something he could use. So then, could I really blame Victor for what had been done to him?

I was not sure.

* * *

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	9. The Role That Was Revealed

Rufus and I sat outside, on the bench before the house. There was a good three feet between us, but I always felt close to him. He completed me, somehow. "It will be alright," he promised every few seconds. "I will make sure."

I nodded.

Victor came out of the house, head lowered so that we could not see his expression. Rufus and I jumped up simultaneously. "What happened?" Rufus asked in a low voice.

Victor's eyes were filled with undisguised wonder. "He gave permission. Sarah may move into the Zeno house as soon as her belongings are packed."

Rufus seemed to think this a perfectly acceptable decision, but I was dumbfounded. "Why?" I exploded. "I thought he needed me!"

Victor shrugged in confusion.

"What did he say?" Rufus asked curtly, still wary of Victor.

"He spoke of a mask," Victor said. "He said it was greater than anything Sarah could give him. He found a way to it; a tunnel somewhere in the house. But he will not even tell me its location. He does not trust me." Bitterness filled his voice.

"And that is all?" I was incredulous. "After all these years, he does not need me anymore?"

"You are complaining?" Rufus asked.

I shook my head. "I just cannot believe...that it is over."

* * *

"This will be your room," Mrs. Zeno said with forced kindness. She was smiling too hard - it seemed as though her face might break. She gestured to the furniture in the room. There was a bed with a flowered coverlet, a white frame nightstand, an oaken wardrobe, a desk and a chair. "I hope you will be comfortable."

"Thank you," I said, stepping inside and setting down my bags.

"Your room is upstairs," she said, as if I hadn't noticed that we had climbed the stairs to get there. "Rufus is downstairs."

I blushed as I caught her hidden meaning. "I understand," I said, ducking my head.

I heard pounding as Rufus ran up the stairs. He reached the door and leaned against it, cheeks ruddy. "Are you sure this is legal?" I asked him worriedly.

"Perfectly," he said. "You checked it out, Mother?"

Mrs. Zeno nodded. "I had the expert at the law firm assess the situation. Mr. Rodenmaar is your legal guardian, and he gave you permission to live here."

"Thank you so much for opening your home to me," I said, with true gratitude.

"You are welcome," Mrs. Zeno replied. "Know that you will be safe here," she said warmly, then turned and left.

I faced Rufus. "What did you tell her?" I asked.

"I said that Mr. Rodenmaar was abusing you and that it was a bad environment," he said straightforwardly. "Mother is a very forward thinker. Ever since Father left, well, she has aspired to be the Susan B. Anthony of Britain."

"I like her," I said, sitting down on the bed.

He sat beside me. "Are you sure you will be alright here?" He leaned forward, peering into my face. "I can never tell how you are feeling," he whispered. "You always have such sad eyes."

"I am happier than I have every been," I replied quietly.

He smiled. My heart flipped.

With tentative fingers, he reached for my hand. As soon as he touched it, his face went white, just as it had before. His eyes snapped shut. Suddenly, every muscle in his body was convulsing. I grabbed his shoulders and steadied him, which was difficult because he was so much bigger than I was. Finally, it stopped and his eyes flew open.

"What?" I turned his face towards me with a strong hand.

"Mr. Rodenmaar," he said. "He is going to die."

* * *

"No," Victor said. "No. You're wrong. What...why...how can you say that? What makes you think...is he ill? Did he just not tell me? How do you know?"

Rufus opened his mouth and closed it, then opened his mouth and closed it again. "I do not know why I know," he finally stuttered. "But I do. It is going to happen." He sighed. "It always does," he murmured under his breath.

I glanced around, hoping that Bea was not around. Such concentrated amounts of testosterone were likely to attract her. There was a small, empty birdbath in the school garden that was now used as a sort of stool. Victor sat down and stared at the small, budding flowers. "He cannot die," he said.

_How can he love his father? _I wondered. _How can he not see who he is?_

"I am sorry," Rufus said. For the first time, there was no animosity in his voice.

Victor was silent for several minutes. When he finally raised his eyes from the dirt, they held a murderous gleam. "Tell me how you know," he demanded.

"I don't know."

"Liar!" Victor screamed.

Rufus swallowed. "I really don't," he said helplessly. "I have visions that always come to pass, and sometimes I can sense when Sarah is in danger, and sometimes walls speak to me."

Recognition passed over Victor's face. "Osirian," he said.

It was Rufus' turn to demand answers. "How do you know that?" he demanded. "How do you know what they say?"

"I didn't know," Victor said. "Until now. My father often mentions the Osirian in his work. You complement the chosen one."

"Me," I said.

"So that was what he was testing..."

He looked at us. The biology room.

Silence.

"What do we do now?" I gazed off into the distance, at the other schoolchildren playing in the field. How little they had to worry about.

"We wait," Victor answered grimly. "We wait for my father to die."

* * *

**Sorry for the long hiatus. I'll continue to be sporadic, though. Having so many Anubis episodes premiering stresses me out!**

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